


Dragon's Egg Blue

by penna_nomen



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Humor, Ankh-Morpork City Watch, Dragons, Dwarf Gender Concepts, F/M, Fandom Trumps Hate, Trolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 02:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10777113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penna_nomen/pseuds/penna_nomen
Summary: Suppose at the end of Men at Arms a rare dragon's egg was delivered to the Sunshine Sanctuary. Carrot and Angua investigate the egg while navigating the rocky landscape of their new relationship. Guest appearance by an adorable, stubborn baby dragon.





	Dragon's Egg Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly AU to bring together all of the characters I wanted in the same time and place. The story opens near the end of Men at Arms -- after Sam and Sybil's wedding, but before the meeting between Carrot and the Patrician. I invented a wedding trip for Sam and Sybil to send them away for a few days while the mystery unfolds. 
> 
> Spoilers for Men at Arms, Wyrd Sisters, and Equal Rites.
> 
> For visuals of characters and more, see https://www.pinterest.com/pennanomen/dragons-egg-blue/

There's a saying about dragons. It goes: _Here there be dragons_. Because really, what more do you need to know about dragons? They're here, so you should be elsewhere. 'Nuff said. 

The saying appears on ancient maps of the Disc, to warn of dangers in the mountains. And it -- briefly -- crossed the minds of travelers who disregarded the warning only to learn that cartographers take their craft seriously and don't joke around about matters like massive flying creatures who make a game of knocking climbers down the mountainside.

Long after snow dragons disappeared from the Disc, the saying remained popular as a general warning.

It crossed the mind of Captain Vimes as he expanded the Watch to include trolls and dwarfs and werewolves.

It crossed the mind of Angua, lance-constable of the Watch and recent romantic partner of Carrot, after she Changed in front of him without first warning him that she was a werewolf.

It crossed the mind of the Patrician, as he monitored the career of the aforementioned Carrot. Rumors about the corporal abounded, as rumors so excel at doing. Maintaining a balance of power was challenging enough without having apparent long-lost heirs to the throne moving up the ranks of the City Watch.

It especially crossed the minds of volunteers at the Sunshine Sanctuary for Swamp Dragons, where they learned to avoid acid drool.

It should have crossed the minds of nature buffs in the city of Ankh-Morpork, when deep blue flowers suddenly bloomed where they absolutely did not belong. Experts marveled at a specimen that was normally seen only in the mountains while forgetting what the flower meant.

Flower enthusiasts will tell you that flowers have special meanings. Some mean _I love you_. Some mean _I'm fabulously wealthy and can maintain a greenhouse for plants that should only bloom on a tropical island_. Some mean _I'm sorry, I had no idea she was your sister_. But this flower sends another message, one which most people long ago ceased to take seriously. It means _Here there be dragons_.

#

In taverns throughout Ankh-Morpork, dwarfs quaffed their ale and sang their favorite song: Gold.

But the Gold Mine tavern was different. Nature enthusiasts had gathered outside -- having learned through mysterious means that only fellow flower fanatics could understand -- that a particularly rare specimen was in bloom at the entrance. They expressed their delight while sketching the elusive flower.

A crowd gathered around to watch them, because possibly the only sight rarer than the deep blue flower was urban floral enthusiasts in the wild, as it were. In an environment where the prevailing plant life was a variety of moss which thrived on garbage heaps, the enthusiasts typically relied on drawings to feed their passion for flowers.* Therefore they were pale and squinty and turning fascinating shades of red under a spectacular sunset.

Already C.M.O.T Dibbler was setting up a stall to sell meat pies and a concoction he claimed could soothe sunburn. A few of the more watchful customers noted that the sunburn cure came from the same container as one of his condiments.**

Two dwarfs pushed their way through the crowd and entered the bar.

"Odd," said one of the dwarfs as he led the way toward an empty table. "Don't see many humans in this part of town. Or flowers."

"Two ales!" his companion yelled to the bartender.

"Did you smell it?" asked the dwarf.

"The meat pies?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not them. The flower."

"You stopped to smell the flower?"

"I didn't have to stop to smell it. It sort of wafted." He crinkled his nose. "A surprisingly spicy aroma."

"That was the pies." His companion shoved one of the freshly delivered mugs in his direction. "You're being weird. Drink."

They did some serious quaffing to catch up with the other patrons, who not unexpectedly started singing the first verse of Gold. The dwarf and his companion joined the chorus. "Gold, gold, egg, gold!"

The companion paused. "No. That's not right. It's _gold_."

"That's what I said."

"No, you said _egg_."

"Did not."

"You said _gold, gold, egg, gold_."

"Right."

"No. There's no _egg_."

Off in the corner, nursing his ale, a lone dwarf muttered, "Egg, egg, egg." No one noticed. Or rather, everyone thought they didn't notice him. But as they left the tavern to return home, more and more of them were singing, "Gold, gold, egg, gold."

 

* Ankh-Morpork flower enthusiasts spent hours admiring prints by Quirma O'Keefe, and loudly shushed the unenlightened who tended to ask, "But is that really a flower? Because it kinda looks like porn."

** Although the substance didn't soothe sunburns for long, it was surprisingly effective at preventing burns. Or perhaps not surprisingly, as its main value as a condiment was preventing burns from the contents of the meat pies.

#

The Patrician summoned his housekeeper after the evening meal, much to her surprise and dismay. She prided herself on her efficiency and attention to detail -- traits the Patrician appreciated -- and therefore they limited their interactions to a set of instructions he wrote, and which she returned at the end of the day with each item marked off as completed, by whom, and when.*

Thus it had been years since they had met face-to-face, an arrangement which satisfied them both. Now as she waited for him to begin the conversation, she wracked her brain to think what might have gone wrong. _Here there be dragons_ was practically written over her face. The Patrician had that effect on people.

"I don't recall ordering the blue linens for this evening," he said.

She shook her head. "Green, in honor of King Verence and his lady," she said. "I remember the steward saying _ver_ means green, and that's the national color of Lancre."

"And yet the linens were blue." He held up the day's list. "Your initials."

She stepped forward and stared at the list a moment, then looked up in confusion. She distinctly remembered going to the linen cupboard with green in mind, and she equally distinctly remembered placing the blue on the tables, noticing the lovely contrast to the crystal.  "Oh, dear me. I don't know how . . . But yes, it was me. It's my fault." She quivered as she stood awaiting dismissal.

"A simple oversight," he said. "I shall overlook it."

"Oh, my, thank you!"

"That will be all."

She curtsied and scurried away.

 

* Over the years the housekeeper grew more detailed in her notes, even adding footnotes. She always prefaced these with the term "ibid" which she'd heard was a fancy word for footnote. However, she had been misinformed. An ibid was a small game bird common in the hubwards regions.

#

"We never use the blue," said Drumknott. "It's kept apart from the others. The only reason we stock blue at all is to make a point of keeping it separate."

The Patrician nodded. Royal blue items were famously not used in the palace, as a reminder that the days of royalty were in the past.

"I thought it was treason at first, but the housekeeper's response is typical of what I heard when I questioned members of the staff. None of them seem conscious of what they're doing."

Despite what his secretary might assume, a little treason wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The trick was to time it correctly. Foster it in the right environment just long enough to expose the enemy, and then snap the trap shut on the ringleaders before they grew too bold. "Samuel Vimes and his bride have departed for their wedding trip?"

"They passed through the city gates an hour ago."

"Very well. I agree with your concern about the _item_. Dispose of it now, before anyone else in the palace is affected. And summon a messenger. I wish to send a note to Corporal Carrot of the City Watch."

"Do you trust him?"

"No. Therefore we shall test him."

#

_Here_ _there be dragons._

Angua knew the complications and dangers of getting romantically involved with someone not of her own kind. And yet she'd blundered into that territory anyway. Ignored all the warning signs and fallen head over heels for someone who had expressed disdain for the undead.

Facing a dragon might have been easier. But instead of the flames of a dragon, she'd run into the fire of the Disc's first gonne. Its projectiles had torn holes through her body yesterday as she tried to protect someone who possibly who could destroy her in ways no weapon could.

She told everyone that she was fully recovered, which was true. Physically. Her body had returned to perfect health as soon as she shifted back from her werewolf form.

Emotionally, however, was another matter. She kept having flashbacks.

No, not flashbacks. Flash-forwards? Flash-might-have-beens? In them, she relived the moments before she was wounded by the gonne, but in these visions she didn't succeed in saving Carrot. Instead, she tripped over her own paws, rolling until she slammed into the wall. Paralyzed with shock and fear, she watched Carrot fall bleeding to the floor. He cursed her and she cursed her own helplessness as his life ended.

And the worst, the absolute worst, was how the smell of his blood triggered her wolf's hunger, even in a flash-might-have-been. In her human form she was a vegetarian, but these visions had her craving one of the chickens* she frequently sought out as a werewolf. 

Everyone in the Watch acted as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't intended to leave Ankh-Morpork and never return. As if she hadn't been in the midst of her escape when suddenly her intuition had warned her that Carrot was in danger. She'd returned to save his life and somehow not gotten around to leaving again. To say things were unresolved between them would be an understatement.

At first she thought Carrot was avoiding her, but that belief ended half an hour ago when he mentioned an order to check on Lady Sybil's home while Sybil and new husband Sam Vimes were on their wedding trip. Before Angua could object, Carrot volunteered her to accompany him.

Carrot, who was currently striding alongside her full of health and vigor, and decidedly not bleeding to death on the ground as she was seeing in another flash-might-have-been.

"Do you need to rest?"

She blinked to clear the vision from her mind and realized she'd come to a stop in front of The Clover Inn. Carrot was looking at her in concern. She wanted to yell, _I'm a werewolf, not a delicate, wilting flower!_

But not, perhaps, in the middle of a crowded walkway.

Looking for a distraction, her glance fell on, of all things, a delicate, wilting flower. She knew the plant from her childhood, but in Ankh-Morpork it was a rare sight. She gestured toward the deep blue, oblong blossom. "They're called dragon's eggs. You know the story, right?" She assumed he would. Carrot made a point of learning the story behind every person and landmark he encountered, and walking through the city with him usually meant hearing a history of everything they passed. Oddly, he hadn't said much today since leaving the Watch House.

Or maybe not so oddly.

Maybe he'd invited her along on this walk to Lady Sybil's in order to end their relationship away from the prying eyes and ears of the rest of the Watch. He wouldn't be the first to lose interest after learning her secret. Maybe he'd been silent because he was searching for the right words. _We're too different_ , perhaps. That was a popular phrase in her own limited romantic experience.

"Tell me the story," Carrot requested, and started walking again.

It had been a long time since she'd heard the story. Angua's parents weren't interested in folk legends, but the townspeople had shared the stories with her when she was a child. She thought back to a village woman who liked to talk while tending her garden. "Once there was a boy who tripped over a stone on his way home to the family farm one evening. When he stood up he saw the stone, which had been hidden in a snow drift. It was a bright, shiny blue, and looked almost like a jewel. Thinking his mother would like it, he picked it up and took it home with him."

"It was a dragon's egg?"

She nodded. "For several weeks they thought it was simply a rock. Then one evening the boy was rolling it across the floor and said he heard the sound of laughter coming from it. His mother scolded him for telling tales and sent him to bed. But in the morning they woke to the sound of the rock splitting open, and standing in front of the egg was a tiny blue dragon. He kept it as a pet at first, but in time it grew too large, and its wings had become strong enough to fly. The boy said goodbye and the dragon flew away. But where the boy had first found the egg, bright blue flowers sprouted. They appeared in the same spot every spring, a reminder of the dragon."

"That's where the term _dragon's egg blue_ comes from," Carrot mused. "Also known as _royal blue_."

"That's right." Angua would have told the second half of the story, the part that explained why the color was called _royal blue_ , but they'd reached the entrance to Lady Sybil's property. "Speaking of dragons, here we are." The smell of swamp dragons nearly overwhelmed her werewolf senses.

Now Carrot returned to form, describing the history of the swamp dragon sanctuary as they proceeded. "Did you know baby dragons are called _sprouts_?" he was asking as the door opened to their knock.

The young woman who opened the door raised a brow and said, "Not many people know that. Most visitors call them _hatchlings_." She smiled. "I'm Sarah. Can I help you?"

Carrot introduced himself and Angua. "We work for Captain Vimes, and he asked us to make sure all is well while he's away." Even though Mr. Vimes was officially retired from the Watch, it was difficult to stop thinking of him as their captain.

"We were expecting you," Sarah said, leading them inside. "The house is mostly empty at the moment, of course, but there are a few of us volunteering at the Sunshine Sanctuary. I don't recall seeing you at the wedding." Her tone indicated that she would have remembered Carrot if he'd been there.

Angua told herself not to growl. Sarah couldn't help being a dark, sultry beauty and _human_. It's not surprising she would flirt with Carrot. It's not like he'd mentioned that he and Angua were a couple. Which they weren't, anymore. Probably. Maybe.

"An investigation kept us away," Carrot explained.

"The Watch's work is never done," Angua added.

"The Watch is like a watch then," Sarah said. "Always working." Her smile was so open and friendly that Angua found herself smiling back, despite her jealousy.

"Clever," said Carrot.

"And does the Watch need someone to wind them up?" Sarah asked.

Carrot seemed to take this as a philosophical question rather than a joke. While he pondered it, Angua said, "That was the role of Captain Vimes. He kept us moving."

Sarah paused at a side door, picking up a heavy apron and gloves. "Lady Sybil keeps us moving, and I expected things to be quiet in her absence. Or at least as quiet as things can be around swamp dragons. It seems the Patrician had something else in mind."

 

* Or a fresh ibid. Unfortunately you never found good ibid in the city.

#

"The Patrician sent this?" Angua asked. They were looking at a rock about the size of Carrot's fist. It was egg-shaped, and at first glance looked like a rough-cut, deep blue jewel. Dragon's egg blue.

"It arrived last night," Sarah said as she donned her apron and placed the gloves in its pocket. The apron and matching gloves were leather and bore stains from the acid drool of swamp dragons. "At first I thought it was a wedding gift."

"You don't think that now?" Carrot asked.

"When I checked the gift book, I saw he'd already sent something two weeks ago. The note that came with the egg said he trusted the sanctuary to care for it, and that the Watch would stop in to see that it was safe."

"That's why you were expecting us?" Carrot looked surprised. "Captain Vimes didn't mention ordering us to stop by?"

"No. That is, no one said anything to me about a request from the Captain."

"It's an amazing replica of a snow dragon's egg," Angua said, tracing a finger along the edges. The story she'd told Carrot on their walk was fresh in her mind, and this resembled the egg she'd imagined when she heard the tale. It seemed incredible to her that a dragon which started out so small grew to be as large as the creatures of legend. "It even has cracks, as if the dragon were about to hatch."

"That's what is worrying me," Sarah said. "When it arrived last night, the cracks were much smaller."

Angua pulled her hand away from it. "But it can't be real! Snow dragons are a myth."

Sarah gestured toward an old and well-worn book lying open beside the egg on Lady Sybil's desk in the sanctuary. "The most noted dragon expert says they were real. Centuries ago snow dragons roamed the Disc -- the colder regions, anyway -- but always returned to one specific mountain for breeding season. There are stories of landslides occasionally burying a generation of eggs, and that might be how this one was preserved after the species died out. I've been researching their food and habitats. If there's still a live sprout in this egg, I believe I can care for it, but it doesn't belong here."

"Does it belong anywhere?" Carrot asked.

In his face and tone, Angua read something he usually kept hidden -- the struggle of a man learning to accept that he wasn't a dwarf. He was too big to return to life in the mines, but the human city of Ankh-Morpork still felt alien. It was in these moments she felt hope that they had more common ground than simply their work at the Watch. She too was searching for home, a search that meant discovering and accepting who she was.

He rolled the egg along the desk and looked up sharply. "Did you hear that?"

Sarah nodded. "Laughter?"

Angua's sharper ears had picked up giggling and a tiny voice saying, _Wheee!_

"What exactly did the Patrician say about the Watch?" Carrot asked.

Sarah picked up a note written on the Patrician's letterhead. "It says, 'The Watch will make sure it's safe.' That could mean keeping the egg safe, or keeping the sanctuary safe from the egg. Or from what's inside of it."

The door to Lady Sybil's office opened, and a child ran in. "Sarah! Emma told me there's a pretty new egg! Can I see it? Can I?"

Sarah sighed. "Jane, where is your sister? She knows you're too young to be left unsupervised in the sanctuary. I told her not to leave you alone when she brings you here."

"Emma said no one would notice if I stay out of the way!" Jane yelled.

"Use your inside voice," Sarah requested.

"I am!" Jane said. "It's big inside, and all my sisters are loud! Inside you have to yell!"

"Very well. Use your outside voice then."

Jane smiled and whispered. "I like it outside. It's quieter."

"Yes. Why don't we see if we can make the inside as quiet as the outside, at least when you're at the sanctuary, hmm?"

A sharp cracking noise drew everyone's attention to the egg. It split open and a tiny, dark blue dragon scrambled out. It hopped around the desk, flapping wispy wings that were too small and weak to carry it aloft yet.

"Bunny!" Jane whispered. "Hop, bunny!"

Sarah patted Jane gently on the back. "Get Emma, and tell her to bring the book of names." While Jane dashed away, Sarah donned her gloves and picked up the sprout to examine it.

" _Nita?_ " the dragon said, squirming in Sarah's hands.

Angua realized she was understanding the sprout's language through her werewolf senses. To the others it sounded like a squeak. "Does the term _nita_ mean anything to you?"

Returned to the desk again, the sprout hopped toward Angua squeaking, " _Nita! Nita!_ "

As Sarah shook her head in answer to Angua's question, Jane dashed back into the room. A young woman who closely resembled the child followed. Both sisters were pale and blonde.

Emma carried a book. "It hatched?"

"Yes, and Jane already called her _bunny_."

"A girl." Emma had been wearing gloves similar to Sarah's, but now she pulled them off to page through a book with lists of names. "No. No. That's been used twice already this year. Here we go." She dipped a quill in ink and wrote a name into the book. Then she pointed the quill at the dragon, "I dub thee Lady Bonita Snow Dragon."

Lady Bonita Snow Dragon started playing tug-of-war with the quill, squeak-laughing.

"Bonnie," said Angua. She leaned down to be near eye-level to the sprout. "That's your name. Bonnie."

" _Bonnie_ ," she squeaked. " _Nita?_ " She let go of the quill and hopped to Angua. " _Nita?_ "

"I'm Angua."

The sprout sulked and stamped her feet. " _Nita!_ "

Angua stood up straight. "She wants something called _nita_." Noticing a streak of blue from the eggshell on one of her hands, she wiped it impatiently on her uniform.

"A type of rock?" Carrot speculated. He'd picked up the book Sarah had referenced. "It says snow dragons eat stone and metal."

"Perhaps we'll find out when we feed her." Sarah cast a warning glance at everyone in the room. "I need each of you to promise not to tell a soul about Bonnie. People who have no idea how to care for her could try to take her because she's rare and cute. Once she's strong enough to travel, we need to find a way to return her to her proper environment."

"To live alone?" Carrot asked.

"If she survived, perhaps others did, too," Sarah suggested.

#

"How did the Patrician know we would go to the sanctuary?" Carrot asked as they walked back to the Watch House.

Angua stepped around a ladder propped up against The Clover Inn. Someone was repainting the inn's sign. "Maybe Captain Vimes told him? The wedding reception was at the Patrician's palace, right?"

"Yes." It was another quiet walk with Carrot. This time it was clear his mind was occupied with a puzzle.

In sight of their destination, Angua blurted out, "Did you notice Sarah's flirting?" She regretted it immediately. It sounded jealous, and implied that she had a right to feel that way. It assumed she still had a relationship with Carrot, and she wasn't sure she had the nerve to have that discussion yet.

He nodded. "I wondered if you noticed. Did you mind?"

"I . . . Well, I . . . Did _you_ mind?"

"No, not unless it made you uncomfortable." He looked perplexed. "But you didn't ask her to stop."

Unsure what to make of that comment, she returned her attention to their newest case. "When did Captain Vimes tell you to check in on Lady Sybil's home?" Angua asked once they entered the Watch House. She nodded as Detritus led a crew of new recruits outside.

"He sent a note," Carrot paused. "I didn't see the note. It was here when I arrived. Sergeant Colon told me about it."

A look passed between them. For the moment they were on the same page. They strode into Captain Vimes' office. Colon had gone in there long enough to read the latest reports and dispatches, but the sergeant still didn't feel comfortable lingering. The room was unoccupied, and the desk covered with papers. Angua couldn't discern any form of organization. It looked as if there had been a war between the temporary administrator and the paperwork, and that Colon had abandoned the battlefield. She picked up a piece of paper at random. "The Thieves' Guild reported an unauthorized thief." She placed that announcement on a chair.

"A dwarf was arrested for being _Drunke and Disorderlie_ ," Carrot read, disappointment clear in his voice.

They kept reading and stacking papers until Angua found the one they were looking for. "Here it is. The captain must have borrowed a sheet of paper from the Patrician after the wedding. See, it's Lord Vetinari's letterhead."

Carrot read the note carefully and then said, "This is a _Clue_. Captain Vimes has explained to me the difference between those and real clues. Most clues don't seem significant at first, and you don't realize they're clues at all. But a _Clue_ , something obvious like this, is not to be Trusted."

Angua reread the note. "You think he wouldn't have used the Patrician's letterhead?"

"Correct, and this isn't the captain's handwriting."

"It looks like the same handwriting on the note Sarah received. Maybe the captain dictated it to someone?" Angua suggested. "He was probably in a hurry."

"He still would have signed it himself," Carrot argued. "No, this is a _Clue_."

"What do we do with it?"

"Corporal Carrot!" One of the new recruits ran into the office, gasping for breath. "Holding cell." Gasp. "The dwarf we arrested." Gasp. "Somethin's wrong with 'im." Gasp. "Sergeant said." Gasp. "Need you."

Carrot bounded down the stairs, Angua close behind him. The recruit gasped a sigh and followed more slowly.

They heard the dwarf before they saw him. At first Angua thought he was moaning, but he was actually saying, _blue_ over and over.

Carrot hunched down in front of the holding cell, and a conversation followed in dwarfish. When he stood again, he told the new recruit to escort their prisoner to a specific address in an area Angua recognized as being popular with dwarfs.

"Where are they taking him?" she asked.

"An apothecary in the dwarf market. As near as I can tell, someone drugged or poisoned his ale last night, poor fellow. He was hallucinating." He shuddered at the memory of the prisoner's words. "He was back home in his family's mine, but instead of gold, he was mining blue."

"The color blue?" Angua considered this. Gold was both a thing and a color. If the metal gold turned blue, what did you call it? _Blold? Glue?_ "Not blue gems?"

"No, not gems. That wouldn't have disturbed him, although most dwarfs value gold and iron above gemstones. Each time he repeated a saying that includes _gold_ , he said _blue_ in its place. It was terrible."

#

Carrot suspected that Angua had an Ulterior Motive when she suggested they visit the Patrician's palace.

Not to say she was lying about wanting to get to the Bottom of Things with regard to the snow dragon, but she seemed determined to keep his mind off of his distressing conversation with that poor dwarf. She had tried raising several other Topics of Discussion, until finally she said, "Fine. Be obsessed with the dwarf. He's probably on his way home already and sleeping off whatever he drank. I'm going to find out where the Patrician got that egg."

She marched out and Carrot followed, because the Watch Rule Book clearly stated that one must achieve the rank of corporal before approaching the Ruler of the Realm, and Angua was still a lance-constable. When he quoted the rule to her, she said, "There's more than one way to skin a cat," which sounded Cruel and not what he would have expected of her. He wanted to ask if she disliked cats because she was a werewolf, but chose not to mention her Condition in public, as it had been kept a secret among their colleagues in the Watch.

Perhaps she noticed the concern in his expression, because she added, "That's a figure of speech. In this case it means that I can get the information I need in ways other than confronting the Patrician himself. The palace is a big place. It takes a lot of people to run it."

He nodded. "We will be Indirect."

They bypassed the main entrance, instead walking through the kitchen garden. There, among the expected herbs, were the same dragon's egg flowers they had seen in front of the inn. "How did these get here?" he wondered aloud.

"Dunno," said a voice behind him. "They popped up yesterday and were already bloomin' today. Keep meanin' to weed 'em out, but somehow I never get 'round to it." Based on the man's attire and the tools he carried, Carrot guessed this person was a gardener.

Angua questioned the man and got directions to the housekeeper. The woman seemed friendly enough, but flatly refused to confirm that she'd seen a blue egg in the palace.

Carrot said, "That's a lovely dress you're wearing."

The housekeeper smiled. "Thank you."

"I've noticed everyone here is wearing royal blue today. Is that because King Verence is visiting? I understood that royal blue is normally frowned upon in the palace."

With a surprised frown, the housekeeper glanced down at her dress. "It's . . . I only wear this on my day off. I can't think how I forgot. Everyone, you say?"

"Everyone we've seen was wearing at least one blue item," Angua confirmed.

"Well, this is . . . Oh, dear me. I don't understand. I specifically meant to wear green today. And this is the second time. Ever since that egg arrived, blue is popping up everywhere." Her eyes grew wide. "I'm not supposed to talk about the egg."

"We're not going to tell anyone," Angua promised. "We just want to know where it came from."

"It was only here for three days. I've no idea where it came from or where it went."

They thanked her and were on their way out when a small, elderly dog shuffled into their path in a hallway and started woofing congenially at Angua.

"Were you looking for me?" The low, amused voice of the Patrician came from behind them. The dog shuffled in his direction, and flopped down at his feet.

"No," said Angua, "but maybe we should have been. Where did you get the egg that you sent to Lady Sybil?"

"A fascinating specimen, don't you agree?"

"Yes," she said, although Carrot thought she sounded more Annoyed than Fascinated.

"The leader of the Thieves' Guild brought it to me. We have an _arrangement_ with regard to such things."

"Did he mention where it came from?" Carrot asked.

"Oh, dear me," the Patrician said, making Carrot think he had been Eavesdropping on their conversation with the housekeeper. "The guild promises discretion in their activities."

"They stole it," Angua said. "From whom?"

"Not stolen. Appropriated." He shook his head before Angua could speak again. "I recommend you consult the Watch's records with regard to an individual known as Albert Spangler. I understand the guild filed a formal complaint about him recently." He turned his attention to Carrot and added, "You will keep me informed of what you learn and what becomes of the dragon."

"Why are you interested?" Angua asked.

"You might say the classic tale of a boy and his dragon inspired me."

Angua looked Doubtful.

"Don't let me keep you," the Patrician said, and gestured toward the exit. The little dog woofed at them once more as they left.

Angua waited until they were on the street in front of the palace to say, "I recognized that name. Albert Spangler was the unauthorized thief in the report from the Thieves' Guild. Do you know what he meant by saying the guild _appropriated_ the egg?"

"Yes. When someone who is not a member of the guild commits a theft, they track the unlicensed thief down and appropriate what he has stolen. What do you remember from the report about Albert Spangler?"

"It said he escaped but had to leave most of his loot behind in order to get away. He'd been staying at The Clover Inn."

#

When they returned to The Clover Inn, the sign painter had already put away his ladder and was picking up his paints. He was a boy a few years younger than Carrot.

"Why did you change the name of the inn?" Carrot asked.

"What? It isn't changing! It's been The Clover Inn for generations. My great-grandmother opened it. She said clovers were lucky."

"Then why does the sign feature a blue egg now?"

"It doesn't." But the painter looked up at the sign, and then down at the pot of blue paint in his hands. "I . . . I don't understand."

"Yeah, we're hearing that a lot recently," Angua said. "A few days ago, the Thieves' Guild traced an unlicensed thief to a room in this inn. Did you see his loot when they carried it away?"

The boy nodded. "Jewels, mostly. Necklace and stuff. And an egg." He paused. "I dreamed about that blue egg last night. You think that's why I painted it?"

Angua looked sharply at Carrot. "Where was that dwarf arrested?"

#

They saw dragon's egg flowers growing in the dirt at the entrance of the Gold Mine tavern. Inside a few early revelers were singing, "Gold, egg, blue, egg" to the tune of "Gold."

"That's wrong," Carrot said, looking appalled. "No dwarf would change the words to a traditional song like that."

"Whatever affected the dwarf we released from holding has affected them, too." Angua stopped staring through the dusty window and looked at Carrot. "Do you think Albert Spangler stole the egg from him?"

He nodded. "That dwarf was new to the city. If he carried it here with him, that would explain why it affected him first."

"Could the egg have done this to them?"

"The egg, or the dragon from inside it. That seems to be the common thread tying together all of the clues we've discovered. The longer the dragon is here, the more people are becoming obsessed with blue and eggs."

"Any idea where the dwarf got the egg?"

"He came here from Lancre. I can Discover where's he staying and ask him." Carrot paused. "If he's recovered enough to say anything other than _blue_."

"Lancre." Angua smiled. "Remember the Patrician's dog?"

"He barked at you. Was it more than merely a greeting for . . ."

"For a fellow canine? Yes, he was conveying a request from one of the guests at the palace, the Queen of Lancre. She asked us to meet her."

"The queen speaks canine?"

"Let's find out."

#

"There, there." In front of the palace stables, a woman patted a horse in what she thought was a soothing manner. She wore* long, flowing, green silk garments which almost hid a few small, silver adornments. Jeweled pins arranged around her head like a crown were probably intended to hold her light brown hair in an intricate arrangement, but there was nothing like Ankh-Morpork weather to bring out hair's natural frizz. The effect was rather like a cloud of golden fog overwhelming a circle of bright flowers.

"You two," she commanded in a regal voice. One of the people approaching was making the horse particularly nervous. Werewolves had that effect. Magrat had guessed almost immediately that the lance-constable was a werewolf, and was surprised no one else seemed to notice. "You were the members of the Watch who visited the Patrician earlier today?"

"Yes, ma'am," the non-werewolf confirmed. "I'm Corporal Carrot and this is Lance-Constable Angua."

"Into my carriage, now. You will give me a tour of the city." She was projecting a combination of Lady Sybil's rather intimidating elocution and Granny Weatherwax's attitude. Headology had applications far beyond witchcraft, she had learned. One needed to master the skill to be taken seriously as a monarch in this city.

 

* The woman, not the horse. The horse wore leather on the job, and what he wore in the privacy of his own stall was no one else's business.

#

It was a closed carriage, and when the three of them were inside, a driver guided the horse onto the crowded city streets.

"You got my message?" the queen asked in a more normal voice than the imperial tones she'd adopted outside the carriage.

"Yes, your majesty," Angua said. "Wuffles said you wanted to meet us here."

"Call me Magrat. By any chance is there a blue dragon's egg wreaking havoc in the city?"

"How did you know?" Carrot asked, and taking his role as a tour guide seriously, pointed out, "Those are Ankh-Morpork's famous temples to our right."

"Thank you, I've been hoping to explore them. Is it true --" She shook her head. "That can wait. I noticed the egg in the palace when we arrived for Lady Sybil's wedding, but when I looked for it again today it was gone and everyone I spoke with denied it had ever been there. I'd seen it before. I fear it's partially my fault it came to this city in the first place. That was the main reason my husband and I agreed to come to the wedding while I'm in . . . shall we say, _a delicate condition_? I wanted to locate the egg and make sure it hadn't caused any damage."

"What can you tell us about it?" Angua asked.

"A month ago, a troupe of strolling players made their annual visit to our kingdom. Normally they're highly skilled, but on this occasion they kept forgetting their lines or making nonsensical monologues about eggs or the color blue. After the performance my husband and I spoke with the performers, thanking them for their efforts, and one of their props came to my attention. It was the egg, and I sensed a power in it, as if it were alive." She took in their questioning looks and added, "I was trained as a witch. I'm retired now that I'm queen, of course."

"Of course," repeated Angua although Carrot thought she looked Uncertain.

"Still, I can't help noticing certain objects have intrinsic magic, can I? I mentioned it to the leader of the troupe, and instead of following my advice and having a practicing witch take a look at it, he decided it was the cause of all their problems and that it had to go, immediately. When I brought a witch to talk to him the next day, he told us he had already given it to a dwarf on a caravan to Ankh-Morpork. Naturally I worried about what would happen when the egg arrived here, among so many unsuspecting people. After a few nights of dreaming about blue eggs myself, I told Verence we must accept the invitation to the wedding to see for ourselves if the egg was causing trouble."

"It hatched today," said Carrot. "We're trying to find out where it came from, so we can send it back where it belongs."

Magrat nodded. "Yes, that would be best. The troupe said a troll gave it to them. She told them her daughter was obsessed with it, and she wanted it out of their home. They didn't say where they met the troll, but the troupe is on their way here. In a few more weeks you can ask them about it."

Carrot resumed the role of tour guide, noting Points of Historical Interest. The queen listened politely, but became more animated when Angua indicated the best shops for clothing and fabrics. It soon became clear that the queen's Delicate Condition entailed a need for baby garments. He still had a lot to learn about human sayings, and he made a note of this one for future reference.

The book in Lady Sybil's office had mentioned that snow dragons laid their eggs at the base of a cold, snowy mountain. The jewel-like eggs attracted the attention of humans, who had warm, safe homes. Those homes acted as incubators.

Trolls, however, preferred cold environments. If an egg had survived a landslide and was eventually discovered by a troll, it could have remained dormant in the troll's home. On a journey down to Lancre and Ankh-Morpork, it would become warmer. The Patrician's palace was rather chilly, but the Sunshine Sanctuary for Swamp Dragons was particularly warm, as the swamp dragons liked and generated heat. Therefore the sprout hatched shortly after arriving.

As they neared Lady Sybil's home, Angua suggested that she and Carrot should check on the sprout. Before they left the carriage, however, she turned to the queen and said, "Just one more question. After the troupe left Lancre, did you notice dark blue flowers suddenly in bloom?"

#

"Something's wrong with Bonnie," Sarah told them. "She barely eats. She constantly whimpers. And she keeps escaping. These pens weren't intended for such a small dragon and she seems particularly bright. She sneaks out and we only find her because we hear her crying."

"Does she want her mother?" Angua asked.

"The _Disastrous Oviparous Dragons of the Disc*_ said that snow dragon mothers aren't there when the eggs hatch," Carrot recalled from the book in Lady Sybil's office he'd paged through earlier in the day.

"Impressive. It isn't a title that sticks with most people," Sarah said. As they neared the pens, they could hear Bonnie squeaking. "That's the most excited I've heard her since you've left."

"She's saying _Nita_ again," Angua whispered to Carrot.

The swamp dragons seemed nervous. That appeared to be their Natural State, although Carrot wondered if they sensed Angua's Dual Nature. He'd noticed the horse had shied from her when they left the carriage. However, Bonnie did not express any fears. The creature hopped amazingly high for something so small, its tiny wings fluttering each time it descended. It seemed to be calling out to Angua, who picked it up and Listened to its squeaks intently.

"What did you do with the eggshell?" Carrot asked Sarah.

"Hmmm?" She stopped watching Angua holding the sprout. "I had one of the girls carry it outside. It should be on one of the outdoor worktables. I've wanted to examine it more closely, but Bonnie's kept me too busy."

"Would you point me in direction of the worktables?" Carrot asked. He followed her directions and quickly found the eggshell. His suspicions confirmed, he walked back inside. "Have you always had flowers growing there?"

"Flowers?" Sarah frowned and walked to a window. "How did they grow so fast? There weren't flowers there yesterday, and now there are so many you can barely see the grass."

Angua walked over, the dragon sleeping in her hands. "She seemed desperate to communicate something, and now she's exhausted. Is that normal?"

"I've no idea what's normal for a snow dragon sprout. The _Disastrous Oviparous Dragons of the Disc_ has very little to say about their health." Sarah removed her gloves and apron and set them on a shelf. "I'm afraid to leave her here overnight. We have a few girls who remain for a night shift to look after the swamp dragons, but they'll have their hands full without keeping this one from making another escape. I think perhaps I should take her home with me. I wonder . . ." She looked at Angua and Carrot. "Would you mind walking me home?"

"Do you suspect someone will try to steal Bonnie?" Carrot asked.

"No. That is, I'll keep her hidden so I don't think that will be an issue. I'd like to have someone along to help catch her in case she tries to run away again. It isn't far, I promise."

Carrot looked at Angua, and she nodded. "You lead the way. I can carry her," she said.

 

* Henry Houston Audubon, author of the guide, dedicated his life to the study of dragons after a series of run-ins with the species. He was determined to learn everything about them, in order to avoid them. Much later in life he was introduced to maps which had _Here there be dragons_ scribed on them, and retired to an island far from the creatures. There he took up bird-watching. However, his obsession with dragons led him to conclude that birds were a highly evolved form of dragons -- perhaps because of their tendency to dive-bomb him.

#

Sarah borrowed a large, flowery bag from another of the volunteers at the sanctuary. It was the kind of bag Angua had seen wealthy women use to carry tiny, yappy dogs in. Such dogs were nervous by nature and terrified of werewolves, and therefore she'd never gotten close to such a bag, but now she wore one over her shoulder. Despite Sarah's fears, Bonnie didn't seem inclined to escape. The little dragon was sleeping in the bag, emitting tiny snores that only Angua could hear.

Carrot walked ahead with Sarah, soaking up knowledge about a neighborhood he wasn't familiar with, yet. He seemed merely polite rather than smitten, but Angua couldn't help imagining the two of them as a couple. For all his folksy ways, there was something commanding about him at times. Almost regal. The volunteers at the Sunshine Sanctuary were certainly a better fit for him than a werewolf. They were from fine families with great manners -- and often great manors. A young man rising up the ranks of the Watch couldn't do better than to marry a girl like that. Carrot certainly had ambition. He'd mentioned his aspirations for expanding the Watch and Angua thought he might be able to pull it off. There'd been something about the way the Patrician had looked at Carrot today . . . He'd seemed wary, almost as if Carrot were a rival to be watched closely.

Perhaps she should go ahead and leave the city. Then Carrot wouldn't need to feel guilty about breaking off a short-lived romance to pursue someone more suitable. Of course Angua had her own _pedigree_ , of a sort. Her family had some power in their part of the world, but they wouldn't approve of Carrot any more than he'd approve of them.

She shouldn't have let things go so far with Carrot, not without telling him what she was. He'd been clear about disliking werewolves. Yes, he'd cared that she recovered after being wounded by the gonne, but that was Carrot. He _cared_ about things.

Whereas Angua had gone far beyond caring. She'd stupidly fallen in love with him. In love with a man who was probably waiting for the right moment to tell her they were all wrong for each other. Probably agonizing about how to say it without hurting her feelings. She'd be doing them both a favor if she left as soon as they figured out where Bonnie came from. Maybe she could volunteer to take Bonnie back to the mountains where she belonged.

_Climb ev'ry mountain_ , she thought. She experienced a sense of vertigo which the wizards could have told her was the sign of a tear in the fabric of reality.* Strange visions filled Angua's mind. A doe in a ray of sun. Running far and sewing. Tunes buzzed in her mind, the sound of music drowning out the conversations of the people around her. She heard a folk song about a plant with white flowers, but she envisioned the blue dragon's egg flowers, instead. Why not return Bonnie to the mountains, look for more eggs, and . . . Her mind was a bit fuzzy about this. Give children singing lessons?***

"Angua?"

"Yes?"

He'd stopped and was facing her, looking puzzled. "You were singing."

She felt her face grow warm.

"I didn't know the song. The words were, _Dragon's eggs, dragon's eggs, every morning you greet me,_ " he continued.

"You have a very nice voice," Sarah added. "We're here. Would you like to come inside? There will be a kettle on if you want some tea."

Carrot said, "I had this sudden craving to drink tea with jam and bread." He looked embarrassed. "But you don't need to feed us."

"I had the same craving," Sarah said. "You might as well join me."

She didn't want to admit to a weakness, but Angua very much wanted to sit down until the strange visions faded. That need temporarily overcame her reluctance to spend more time watching Carrot with Sarah, and she nodded in agreement.

 

* In fact the fabric around the Disc was so full of holes that a certain witch-trained-as-a-wizard** had described it as the Battenberg lace trim along the edge of reality.

** Eskarina Smith is waving and wants you to know that her big scene is coming up. She's taking the whole foreshadowing thing quite seriously.

*** On the other side of the tear in reality, somewhere on a mountain in Austria, a lonely goatherd has a vision of Angua with a blue dragon, and he is surprised into a sound which later becomes known as a yodel. The goatherd would be horrified if he knew that he and his moment of surprise will be immortalized in a musical in which he is an unnamed comic element, and his rivals -- the goat-thieving clan known for their traps -- are the heroes.

#

Bonnie woke while they were eating, and Sarah casually fed her a stone coaster. The little dragon reached for a gold necklace around their hostess's neck, but Sarah pulled out of reach. "You're too young for a rich dessert."

"They eat gold?" Carrot asked. "My Mum and Dad told me stories about dragons hoarding gold."

"That's a common misconception," Sarah explained as she handed Bonnie to Angua. "Snow dragons eat stone and metal. Most of it remains inside their bodies, but the shiny metals and jewel stones are difficult for them to digest. Those pass through."

Angua raised a brow. "You're saying the piles of treasure you hear about in legends are actually a dragon's litter box?"

"That's right. It's rather like loving a food that disagrees with you. The poor things crave the taste." She stood to refill their tea cups as the door to her flat opened. "Is that you, Rina? Come meet our guests."

A young woman came into view. "Ooo. It hatched, did it? May I?" She reached out and Angua handed Bonnie to the newcomer.

Several items and scents in the flat had already informed Angua that an Igor or Igorina lived with Sarah. Therefore she'd been expecting to see someone more unusual. The Igor clans typically were covered with scars, an advertisement for their experience with surgeries, which they practiced on themselves as well as others. When an Igor said he had two left feet or was all thumbs or had his father's ears, he meant it literally. Rina, therefore was a mystery. Either she was younger than she looked, or had chosen not to take up the family practice.

Or . . .

A closer look revealed scars so fine that they nearly disappeared. It seemed Rina was a rebel, one of the few who specialized in invisible surgery. When she sat next to the lamp, it was possible to see that her pert nose was a recent change, as were her petite hands. For such fine work she would have wanted those narrow fingers. And there were other signs . . . Realizing she was staring, she said, "I'm Angua. I grew up in Uberwald."

Rina met her gaze calmly. "Then you know my kind, or thought you did."

"As a matter of fact, I recognized your brother from the picture." Angua gestured toward a family portrait on a shelf. "It's your hair that surprised me." Most Igors she'd met were pale with dark brown hair, but Rina's was a deep red. At first Angua assumed it was dyed, but the color looked entirely natural.

Rina smiled and brushed away her bangs, revealing the fine scars along her scalp. "Baldness runs in the family. My brother helped me find a lovely head of hair that suited my personality."

"I remember he was very sought after for his skills." Angua took a sip of tea. "What do you make of baby Bonnie?"

"We've been worried about her," Sarah added. "She seems unhappy, but we don't know what to do for her. Does she look healthy to you?"

The dragon whimpered as Rina examined her. After a few minutes she was squeaking _Nita_ again, and Angua asked, "Does the term _nita_ mean anything to you?"

Rina handed the squirming dragon to Angua. "Sorry, no. And she seems in perfect health, as far as I can tell. But this is a magical creature. The first dragons were created by a sorcerer, so they say. You'd do better to consult a wizard."

#

Once again, Angua carried baby Bonnie in the flowery shoulder bag. Carrot watched closely to see if she took on that vague, unfocused look she had when she'd started singing earlier.

Carrot had no objections to Breaking Out in Song. Such things happened frequently in the mines, and Angua had an excellent voice. However, he did not approve of being forced to sing. Many a shy dwarf had become even shyer after such an occurrence. It had seemed Angua's singing had been Without Her Knowledge.

She had been shy about revealing her True Nature, for which Carrot blamed himself and his ignorant comments disparaging the undead. For all her forthright tendencies in other areas, she'd become even shyer about discussing their Romantic Liaison. He understood wishing for Privacy for such a discussion, and they had spent most of the day in public, but he was beginning to wonder if she might be Avoiding the Topic by choosing to stay in public places. Now, for instance, she had volunteered to take Bonnie to Unseen University, where they would again be surrounded by strangers.

As they walked, he mentioned that he'd never met an Igor or Igorina, and Angua explained their fame as surgeons. They sounded like a Useful people, and no more confusing than most he'd met in Ankh-Morpork. Undecided if he was concerned or relieved to learn that Igorina's hair had likely come from a corpse, he asked, "Why wasn't Rina in the family portrait?"

"She was."

"I only noticed her parents and two brothers."

Angua said, "That was Rina and her brother." She paused, sliding a glance up at Carrot. "Igors are known for constantly experimenting and changing their own bodies. Transforming themselves. Some even transform from one gender to another. That's what Rina did. She was born a boy, and decided to become a woman."

Carrot considered this.

"Most people wouldn't notice. The work she had done was exquisite. I just happened to know that her brother specialized in helping with that kind of transformation. There was a girl in our village who went to him . . . " She finally looked at Carrot again. "You don't seem as shocked as I expected."

"It's Different, among the dwarfs," Carrot said. This wasn't something one normally discussed with Outsiders, but it was an element of the Courtship Ritual. They needed to have this Talk, he realized, before they could Move Forward with their Relationship. "Growing up, we really aren't aware of the gender of our friends. It isn't something we discuss. Even when you start courting a dwarf, it isn't Revealed at first. Eventually one finds out, of course, when things Progress."

Angua smiled. "I imagine so."

"People think dwarfs have issues with fertility, because many couples don't have children, but that isn't the real reason." He waited to see what she would make of that.

"You mean they stay together, regardless of what they learn during their courtship?"

"If they're truly In Love, yes."

"And that's why there are so many childless couples in the dwarf community." Angua took a few more steps and then stopped. "Did you have any siblings?"

"No. My Mum and Dad couldn't have children. They chose to adopt me, instead."

"You call them Mum and Dad. Not Mum and Mum, or Dad and Dad?"

"Most children don't learn the genders of each of their parents. _Mum and Dad_ is a generic term, the closest translation in Human Language." They started walking again. "Did you think Sarah was making Advances at me, rather than toward you?"

"Toward me?" Angua looked surprised. " _That's_ why you made that comment about me not objecting to her flirting." She laughed.

"It was you she watched in That Way."

"I was too busy being jealous to be flattered."

Carrot hoped she would say more, but she fell silent.

Steps away from Unseen University Angua said, "I went to see Rina's brother, myself."

That was Unexpected. "You wished to be Transformed?"

"The opposite. I'd started transforming into a werewolf and wanted to know if he could stop it. He said the same thing Rina did about Bonnie. My werewolf nature is magical in origin, and only a wizard could answer my questions." She shrugged. "There aren't many wizards in Uberwald. Once they discover their powers, they come here. After all these years, I'm finally off to see a wizard."

"Do you still want to Change your Nature?" Now that Carrot had come to terms with being involved with a werewolf, he found that he didn't want her to give that up. It was a part of her. Things had gone Further than he'd realized. He'd reached the point of learning who and what she was, and now valued her for those very things he'd once feared. 

She stood a moment, appearing lost in thought. "Do you think I should?"

"Being who you are is not something to be ashamed of. But if it makes you unhappy . . ." He spread his hands. "It isn't my place to say."

"You don't mind, being with a werewolf?"

"If I minded, I wouldn't be with you."

"And are you . . . with me? Romantically, I mean."

Now it was his turn to look surprised. "Yes."

#

Eskarina Smith, who had trained as both a witch and a wizard, hadn't been particularly happy during her time at Unseen University. But the library was a place unto itself. She returned when she could, soaking up more ideas. Sometimes she would sit and read. Other times she helped shelve books, using it as an excuse to explore more areas.

The Librarian was usually happy to see her. The students and professors who wandered in ignored her, which was fine because she preferred to ignore them, too.

She was not accustomed to hearing patrons call out, "Miss! Can you help us?"

"We're looking for information about dragons," said a red-haired man.

"Snow dragons," added his companion, a woman with a whiff of magic about her. An even stronger whiff of magic came from whatever was writhing in the flowered bag she held.

After a round of introductions and explanation of what they needed, Esk instructed them to open the bag. A tiny blue dragon crawled out onto a table, and after orienting itself, started running around and squeaking. When Angua held the creature still, its tail seemed to wag. Esk liked to think she was too grown up to have her heart squeezed simply because something was adorably cute, but Bonnie would have pinched much harder hearts.

"This way," Esk told them, and they carried the dragon to a part of the library she'd explored on a previous visit. Fortunately Carrot had the height to reach books that normally only the Librarian could climb up to. Esk could hear him in the distance, giving a severe _Oook*_ to students who hadn't yet learned to mind themselves around magical tomes. Finding a comfortable chair, Esk paged through several volumes to find what was needed. When she looked up again, the visitors were seated on the floor, holding the dragon. It seemed to be falling asleep.

Carrot was the first to notice that Esk had stopped reading. "Do they Control People's Minds, or Influence them? Everywhere we've gone today, we've encountered people obsessed with blue and eggs. A dwarf who carried the egg here from Lancre could barely say anything other than _egg_ or _blue_. Even Angua started singing about them."

"Did you touch the eggshell?"

"Yes," said Angua.

"No," said Carrot.

"Yes, you did. I remember you were rolling Bonnie's egg across Lady Sybil's desk."

He shook his head. "The egg started rolling on its own. I reached out to catch it if it fell."

Turning her attention to Angua, Esk continued, "After you touched the egg, did you notice blue glitter on your hand?"

"I wiped it on my uniform." Angua glanced at her leg, where only a hint of blue remained.

"Those were seeds," Esk explained.

"The flowers!" Carrot exclaimed.

Angua nodded. "Everywhere the egg had been, we saw dragon's egg flowers growing."

Pleased, Esk explained, "Those flowers are part of the egg's defenses. Their scent entices people, makes them feel friendly toward blue eggs. Makes them want to take it home and keep it safe and warm. From what you've described of their effect, I'd say that age made the seeds and resulting flowers particularly potent." She showed them a map. "That's where the snow dragons came from. Not many humans live there anymore. It's mostly troll territory."

"Beyond the Ramtop Mountains," Carrot noted.

"Right. These mountains are so high that the Ramtops are considered down in the valley."

"Was there any mention of _nita_?" Angua asked. "That's what she's saying, when she squeaks."

At the word, Bonnie stirred and started squeaking again. "May I Borrow her?" Esk reached out for the dragon, but Carrot put his arm in the way.

"Borrow?" he repeated.

"I can Borrow the minds of living creatures," she explained. "It should only take a few minutes, but you mustn't touch me until I'm done."

The visitors exchanged a glance and then handed Bonnie over. Esk got comfortable, waiting until the baby dragon was drifting to sleep, and then . . . _Remembered._

She was in an egg, dozing, and then hearing voices. One voice in particular. It told her stories and rolled her around and laughed and said they were best friends and would go on adventures together.

Another voice scolded the friendly voice. Told the friendly voice to stop wasting time and do chores instead. The owner of that voice never touched her, until it handed her over to strangers. So many strangers, taking her on a journey further and further from her friend. From _Nita_.

With a gasp, Esk returned to herself. Now when the dragon squeaked, she heard the word _Nita_.

She handed Bonnie back to Angua. " _Nita_ is a name. Short for Granita, the troll who found the dragon's egg in the rubble of the landslide and took her home. They formed quite a bond."

 

* In this instance, _Oook_ translated to _Don't poke books chained to a lectern if you don't want your finger snapped off._ Esk understood him from long practice, and Angua through her gift of understanding animal languages.

#

"Was there more to the legend about the snow dragon?" Carrot asked. They were back at the Watch House now. Detritus and the other troll recruits had left on a mission to find someone who could locate Granita.

"You haven't already heard it?" Angua asked.

"Your version might be different than the one I know."

She thought back to the start of the day, remembering where she'd left off with the story. "Years after the dragon left, it returned. The boy who had befriended it was a man now, with an adult's cares and worries. A tyrant was ruling the land and abusing the people. The dragon led the man to a treasure, which he used to buy weapons and outfit an army. With an army and a fierce dragon, the man led an uprising. They overthrew the tyrant, and the man became the new king. In honor of his friend the dragon, he selected deep blue for his household colors, giving us what we now call royal blue." She looked at Bonnie, soundly asleep on a desk. Once the dragon had been assured that they understood what _Nita_ meant and would look for her friend, the sprout had finally relaxed. Angua reminded herself that there were some perks to being a werewolf, and being able to communicate with dragons was one of them. "Is that how you remembered the story?"

"Yes, but it doesn't feel right. Does it have to be about humans and war? What if this time the treasure is more eggs, and the happy ending is the return of the snow dragons to their mountains?"

_Here there be dragons,_ she thought again. It didn't sound quite as scary now that she'd faced the metaphorical dragon she'd thought was standing between her and Carrot.

She wasn't naive. More dragons awaited, she knew that. But perhaps she didn't have to deal with them alone.

#

The Patrician nodded as Carrot entered his office in the morning. "You have a report regarding the snow dragon?"

"Yes, sir!" Carrot saluted. "She has been reunited with the troll who first adopted the egg. The troll had come to our city hoping to find it. They will return to the mountains soon, to search for other eggs that were lost."

"Excellent. When will you leave?"

"Me?" Carrot looked confused. "Why would a member of the City Watch go searching for dragon eggs in the mountains?"

"The classic tale of a boy and his dragon has no appeal for you?"

"She isn't mine. The snow dragon belongs with her friend, the troll."

"I see." Lord Vetinari made a mental note to keep a close eye on the troll leadership and to learn about the one who was returning to her homeland. There could be a new monarch in a few years. A gift of supplies for her journey might be a gesture that would pay dividends in the future. He waited long enough for the pause to feel awkward. No reason to make the negotiations comfortable for his rival. "Was there something else you wanted?"

"Well, sir, we could do with a new dartboard."

_Here there be dragons._ The Patrician pondered the ancient warning after the newly promoted Captain Carrot left his office. As much as he relished being the dragon in the minds of others, there was something to be said for facing a worthy adversary. It kept you sharp. The mystery of how much Carrot was aware of his own dragon tendencies added a certain spice to the game.

#

The cartographer carefully approaches the Dragon Teeth mountain range. He visits every eight years, to make certain the maps are still accurate. In a world as magical as the Disc, it isn't unheard of for entire mountains to disappear -- or at least to move to a sunnier location.

This time he sees a troll walking toward him with a small blue dragon on her shoulder. Occasionally the dragon takes flight, but always returns to the troll.

When they cross his path he asks, "You from around here?"

The troll looks around and nods. "This is going to be home. We've been traveling all year to get here."

"Anything of interest in this area?" he asks for the sake of the travelers who will consult his newest map.

Nita points up to an old, snow-covered rockslide. "I'm creating a dragon sanctuary. Snow dragons belong here again."

The cartographer thanks her, and that evening after eating an ibid sandwich he selects the blue ink and from memory sketches Bonnie in flight. Beneath the drawing he writes, _Here there be dragons._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sage Darkwoods for winning the auction bid and requesting a story about Carrot and Angua. Writing my first Discworld story has been an absolute blast! Thanks to Silbrith for being her usual self: beta reader extraordinaire. And thanks for reading! I appreciate your indulgence of my humble attempt to write something that pretends to belong in Terry Pratchett’s amazing Discworld. 
> 
> A few thoughts about writing Discworld fanfic are on the Penna Nomen and Silbrith blog: http://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2017/04/here-there-be-dragons.html


End file.
